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WHO: Mado and you
WHAT: where are my beloved cousins??
WHEN: whatever month this is
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: he's here
WHAT: where are my beloved cousins??
WHEN: whatever month this is
WHERE: the Gallows
NOTES: he's here
There's a strange man in the Gallows courtyard, a man nobody has seen before. He looks shabby, dressed in a long yellow surcoat that has seen much better days, but his face is lit with a plaintive grin as his melodic, Antivan-accented voice rings out:
"Averesk? I'm looking for Kostos, or Nikos Averesk! Have you seen them?"
It's not even entirely clear how he got here, because nobody saw him enter or leave the ferry, and this is not a person who escapes notice easily. Maybe he's a ghost. Maybe he's been living under the island this entire time.
"You there, please! I'm looking for my cousins!"

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"It's in your voice," he insists.
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"Ooh, he's good," he says to Kostos, back in Nevarran again. "So what the fuck do we do with him?"
And as an aside, in case Mado is wondering, he adds: "We're talking about you. Make sure you stay quiet."
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"You could see if Mother and Father want him," he offers, which he would not actually do to them. "We could see if he is too old for an Abbey to take him. Or if you need a manservant..."
Obviously none of these. But he cuts back into Trade to ask Mado, "Can you do anything?"
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But now the sand has shifted. Such is the way of fighting with Kostos. Sulky, Nikos grabs for his wine again, takes a gulp, and turns his glare on Mado, waiting for his answer and his next chance to get a jab in at Kostos.
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He straightens when addressed again.
"I can sing!" he exclaims, "and dance, and do tricks!"
Even he has the wisdom to not completely show his hand.
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Having now heard it, however, it feels so predictable in hindsight that he gives into the urge to plant his elbows on the table and lower his head to hold it in his hands, fingers massaging his temples.
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It will also probably cause him some pain. That's a sacrifice he is willing to make.
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He straightens. "But if you're willing to go out, we can do it there!"
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Once they're outside, he turns expectantly to Mado with his arms folded over his chest.
"Well?"
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"Thank you for stopping, ladies and gentlemen, to witness the talents and mysteries of the great Volpinello!" he crows, speaking not only to the twins, but to any other shady types who may be passing.
"What's this behind your ear, Signore? A silver you've left tucked into your hat?"
He produces such a coin, clear as day, from a bewildered drunkard whose face indicates he's about to think he's just been robbed. Prepared for this reaction, Mado beams.
"Worry not, Signore, for I shall return it, if you'll only give me your hand!"
When the man does so, he receives a firm shake with the hand holding the silver; and when he draws his own back, it now contains a walnut.
Luckily for everyone, he's too drunk to do anything but stare at it.
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Into the silence following the production of the walnut, he says, “Uncle Manetto.”
That’s his prediction, based on hazy 20-plus-year-old memories about which of their relatives was the most ridiculous.
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"Only has daughters," he counters, after a second of observation. The drunk man is now gawping at Mado, and then at the walnut, and then at Mado again, utterly perplexed by this development. "Could be his wife's fault. She's stubborn enough. Frustrated, he strays... gets himself a half-wit."
And before Mado can do too much more, he shoves away from the wall and goes to grab him by the elbow.
"All right, we believe you. Let him keep that walnut, don't grab it. What do you want us to do with you?"
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"Do with me?" he asks blithely, "I just wanted to meet you, cousin. Both of you!"
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"You've met us. I am sure it was everything you dreamed it would be. Now what?"
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He gestures to himself and Kostos, very large and exaggerated.
"--are with Riftwatch. And busy. And there is only so much space."
Not true. The Gallows is a Maker-damned vault of space. Mado could have his own wing. Please, let him go back to Antiva.
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"Well I want," he stammers, with an edge of urgency, "...well what I want is to know you!" Looking between them, his pleading eyes bear a striking resemblance to a dog begging for scraps.
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So if he decides not to hold anything against Mado, it won’t be a compliment.
“What is the process for that,” he says, and it sure would be nice if someone were here to be on Mado’s side and point out that the twins are the worst and wanting to get to know your relatives is actually completely reasonable, but they aren’t—“exactly?”
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But they've been vying for the last word since before they could talk, so--
"We're shit at being known. Allergies."
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"You know," he persists, "eating together, drinking, spending time in the evenings-- you're very busy of course, but I promise, I can be invisible until you want me there!" The cuffs of his yellow sleeves are bunched up in his anxious hands.
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(I’m so sorry. I love him.)
Kostos doesn’t say any of that. He only looks at Nikos, sullen but resigned.
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